New Addition
by NitnatRide
Summary: One of the gang has a secret he's never told the guys, and it comes to the surface in the most horrifying, explosive and yet amazing way in the world. Will one of the guys take advantage of the new addition to the gang, or will he let THEM decide?
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all faithful and/or first time readers. This is how it's going to work; I know some people reading this will be a little sensitive about…ahem "romance" scenes, and other more mature scenes. That's okay; it doesn't mean you can't enjoy the rest of this fanfic. Here's what I'll do; whenever there's a scene of the afore-mentioned persuasion, I'll put an A/N right before that kind of "activity" starts, warning everyone that it's one of those scenes. If you're not sensitive, feel free to keep on reading right through the scene. If you don't want to read it, skip right to the next chapter, and I'll put an A/N at the start of the chapter, updating you on any major events in the plot needed to understand everything that's happening, obviously leaving out the details of the scene you've skipped. Sound good?**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**

**Chapter 1: Unexpected reappearance**

**Faythe's POV**

_Run, Faythe. Just run. Ignore your muscles, ignore your lungs, just run. You can rest later; just lose them first._

Groaning, I try to follow my own instructions and put the pain of my burning of my thighs, lungs and multiple bruises out of my mind. I can still hear Miguel and his cronies following close behind me, and I know I'll have to outrun them; no one on the street will stop to help when all six of them are holding baseball bats or crowbars, and I haven't passed many cops since I've been running from that club Miguel dragged me to. I'm still in one of the dodgy areas of LA, so this won't have the most concentrated number of cops – purely for professional safety – but by the time I get near the centre, where I'll have a better chance of running into a cop for help, these Jags chasing me will probably leave as they don't want to get caught. That is, if I can actually _**make**_ it nearer the centre; they seem to be catching up, going by the sounds of their loud, arrogant, confident footfalls alone.

I made this plan a few days ago, when I first saw a news announcement of them on TV. In the picture of the four of them, I could easily pick him out. He was the second shortest out of all of them, with his trademark "I'm a cool kind-of geek" smile. It said Gustavo Rocque is his new producer, and I remember seeing a building called Rocque Records in the middle of LA when Miguel takes me out for his many "business trips". I immediately began to memorise the route we took from this club we were at just now to Rocque Records. I knew I was ready today, and I wanted to get away from him as fast as possible, so I just went for it when Miguel and his "colleagues" were otherwise engaged. With other women.

Paying no attention to Miguel's thickly-accented voice demanding that I stop – with a few obscenities added in for effect – I'm overjoyed to see that the house-quality is starting to improve; I'm nearer the centre, and I'm _**still**_ ahead of the Jags!

Eventually the cars passing on the road start looking more expensive, and the sidewalks start to fill with more people, and I silently celebrate as I hear the thundering footsteps fade beneath the city sounds as the Jags hang back, cursing my name. But one man's cursing doesn't seem to be getting any further away; I decide to risk one glance over my shoulder, and swear to myself, frightened; if only one of the other Jags, and not Miguel, had continued to run after me, I might have had a chance if they caught up with me. If I'm grabbed by Miguel, I won't be able to beat him down or break his grip, and he won't have to drag me back to a boss to punish me. He'd just do it there and then.

I whimper to myself out of self-pity, but try to pour on speed as terror fuels my adrenaline. Making the sharp left I remember, I dash down this small alley – a shortcut to Rocque Records – throwing trashcans and any other objects I find into Miguel's path in an attempt to slow him down. All it seems to do is increase the severity of the punishment I'm going to get.

Finally, _**finally**_, the huge silver Rocque Records building looms in front of me, and I don't allow myself to slow down until I've burst through the double-doors; Miguel might have been able to catch me right outside the doors, but there's no way he'd follow me in here. Not with all the security in this place.

I've just read which studio he's rehearsing in on the information board when I hear a cry of anger from more than one person. I whirl around, stunned to meet Miguel's furious face _**inside the building**_, barging through many workers. I gasp in realisation as he continues his charge after me, and I bolt up the nearest staircase, the studio I'm looking for being on the third floor. I grab the banister as I shoot around the constant corners, my momentum carrying me around faster than I could turn by myself. No matter how fast I propel myself though, Miguel's ferocious sprinting always follows me soon after.

Barely stopping to read the directions on the third floor wall, I race to the right, spotting the correct studio at the far end of the wide corridor. His laugh, along with three others', leak under the door to my ears. Just before I burst through the doors, I feel a painful tug on my hair, hauling me backwards off my feet and into the air. As agonising pain shoots through my head, I let out a scream of pain, managing to call out one word before crashing to the floor.

"_**Logan!**_"

**Logan's POV**

The boys and I are just laughing at how amazing the new song we've just sung is when I hear a voice screaming for me, _**begging**_ for me. I haven't heard this voice in two years, yet I can still recognise it. But I can't believe she's here. I silently list through all the reasons why and how she could be here, and I come to the conclusion that…_**she's run away from them**_. Then I look at reasons why she would sound so desperate, and again only come to one conclusion; she isn't safe yet.

All this takes me less than half a second, as the sound of someone landing heavily and painfully on the floor makes me throw my headphones off, not caring if Gustavo yells at me for breaking them, and sprint to the door. I throw it open with all my strength, and she's there…writhing on the floor and crying out in pain as a buff Mexican, with hair and eyes as black as his heart, tries to drag her back by her hair. I distantly hear my boys rushing out to join me at the sight, as red clouds my vision and I throw myself at Miguel, swinging my fist hard enough across his jaw that he falls back, releasing her onto the floor. Vaguely acknowledging Carlos kneeling by her sobbing, trembling side, I stride right past her, aiming a furious kick into Miguel's stomach.

I struggle as two pairs of hands restrain me, one from each side, as I never take my eyes off Miguel, attempting to burn a hole right through his head with my hate-filled glare.

"What," a powerful, obnoxious voice shouts over all the commotion, "is going on here?"

Gustavo and Kelly join us in the corridor, the former looking around for an answer to his question. Miguel picks himself off the floor, and I mentally make a note to thank Carlos later as he positions himself between Faythe and Miguel. Miguel jerks his chin to Faythe, and I resist the urge to pummel him again.

"Just trying to gain control of my responsibility, sir," the slime-ball lies. "She isn't mentally stable, and I wanted to stop her from trespassing on your property before she broke anything too valuable."

He's playing with Gustavo's protectiveness of his company and belongings to try to get him to think she _**was**_ just trespassing on his property, and I exhale sharply in anger, trying to start forward again before James and Kendall tighten their grip again.

"She's not _**your**_ anything," I spit, fury leaking through every one of my pores. "And you're not taking her anywhere, ever again!"

Quickly remembering his manipulation of Gustavo, I turn to my boss, and try to snap him out of his possible false thought processes. "Gustavo!" His eyes, under his stupidly and redundant sunglasses – we're inside, for crying out loud – flick to me and my pleading expression, trying to convey to him that this scum-bag is a big fat liar. There's a horrible silence as Gustavo makes his decision, turning back to Miguel and looking him up and down. He seems to find something to comment on in his appearance, and his voice takes on a fairly familiar victorious tone.

"Even an insane person surely doesn't need to be restrained with a baseball bat."

Miguel's eyes glance down to his right hand, like he's just remembered that it's there, and his nostrils flare in recognition of a defeat.

"Security," Gustavo calls, and Freight Train and another, equally-buff security guard step forward from the significant crowd we've managed to gather. Miguel takes a look at them both, assessing the risk, then resigns. He looks down at Faythe, who's still curled up in a ball in Carlos's arms.

"_Buenas dias, mi amor_," he sneers down at her. "I'll see you soon."

I stop myself from reminding him that he most certainly _**wouldn't**_ be seeing her ever again, let alone soon; he should know that now that I've got her back.

James and Kendall don't let me go until Miguel is round the corner of the first flight of stairs, and as soon as they do, I rush down to Faythe's side. Carlos relents his hold on her.

"Shhh, hey. Hey, baby girl. Come here," I bring her into my own arms, sitting on the floor against the wall, and placing her across my lap. She doesn't move from the position of having her head against her knees, arms – covered in bruises, I might add – thrown over herself in defence.

"Come on, shhh, hush now. It's OK. It's OK, I've got you now. No one's going to hurt you. I won't let him hurt you anymore."

After a few minutes of my reassurances, she relaxes her position, cautiously peering up at me through her arms, her sobs only quietened slightly. It's only then that I see her fully, and it hurts in both a good way and a bad; she's still as beautiful as she was two years ago, but her light auburn locks seem dead, flatter than usual, and dirty. The pale skin that we've always shared is purple with bruises on her exposed arms, legs and face – basically every inch that we all can see; her short, tight-fitting pink T-shirt does nothing to cover her, and neither do the denim shorts at that ridiculously scarce length that I've only found in LA. And her eyes; the once magical green of the leaves of a young LA palm tree has dimmed, scared to reveal itself and its playfulness that I used to know.

Two years. Just two years, and he's done all this to her.

I try not to grimace down at her, and slide my arm behind her knees and back, picking her up bridal style. Attempting to ignore the curious stares from the others, I look to Gustavo, pleading him with my eyes. Thankfully, he's in a good mood; he gestures for us to follow him, and we go to his office, sitting down on the cloth chairs to the left of his desk.

"Can you get some ice for her bruises?" I ask Kelly. She nods, looking worriedly at Faythe before going to Gustavo's personal fridge-freezer combo. I gently lift Faythe's legs off mine and spin them, so she's sitting on her own seat, with me right next to her. The boys are sitting on the couch opposite our seat, and Gustavo is leaning against his desk. Kelly gives me the ice pack, and I smile at her gratefully before she goes to stand by Gustavo. I catalogue all Faythe's bruises, trying to figure out which one needs the ice more. I sigh, realising that they're all pretty bad. I choose the one on the apple of her cheek though, as she'd want that one sorted out first; girls always cared about their looks, and she's no exception.

She flinches as I press it just a little too hard. "Sorry," I whisper to her, thinking any louder would be uncomfortable in the thick silence that covers us all.

A few more minutes pass with me dabbing all around at her cheek, with her curled in on herself again, but she rasps out one word. "Faythe."

Kelly leans forward again. "What, sweetheart?"

Faythe clears her throat, obviously dissatisfied with how croaky her voice sounds. "My name is Faythe…" she looks to me for consent, and I nod my head at her, "…Mitchell."

"You're Logan's sister," Kendall states the obvious.

She nods. "Can I have some water, please?"

"Sure, baby girl," I tell her, starting to stand up to get it.

"No, dude; I'll get it. You stay with her," James says, surprising me.

"Thanks, man."

Faythe waits until James comes back from the fridge with a bottle of water. It doesn't escape my notice – or anyone else's for that matter – that she flinches back from his advance before she catches herself. No one says anything though, making their own silent assumptions for the reason to her actions. James unscrews the cap before handing the bottle to her gently.

"Thanks," she says quietly, taking it from him. James surprises me yet again when he smiles at her. Don't get me wrong; James is a great guy, but there's usually an ulterior motive as to why he's smiling at a girl. This smile – when he doesn't even know Faythe – is one of the warmest, gentlest and most welcoming smiles I've ever seen him give. It even manages to thaw Faythe a little, as she gives a tentative, shy one in return, before ducking behind both hands around the bottle. I see James's eyes soften – weird – before he moves back to his seat.

Once she has taken a few draughts, she puts the bottle on the floor and takes a deep breath.

"It started two years ago," she begins.

"Hush," I interrupt, stroking her cheek. "You don't have to talk about it now. It can wait."

"I want to though," she insists. "Besides, I interrupted your rehearsal, so I owe this to Mr Rocque, and I'm guessing you haven't told the guys, so we both owe it to them."

I sigh in defeat; I'd forgotten how smart she is. I hold my tongue, however, so I don't argue that we had in fact finished the rehearsal anyway.

So she continues, "Well, I guess I should say I'm Logan's twin. I'm only two minutes younger than him, and he still calls me 'baby girl'."

I have to chuckle at that – she's always complained about it – and the guys follow suit.

"Basically," she takes another deep breath, and I squeeze her hand in reassurance, "you guys may think Logan is never bad now, always thinking of doing the right thing, never stepping outside the line. That was the complete opposite over two years ago, same for me; we were always getting into trouble in Minnesota.

"Then we came across a gang who called themselves the Jaguars. I can't even remember how now – maybe we went onto their territory or something – but we pissed them off. Logan protected me that night, injuring a few of them before we got away. Since then, they'd been trying to get back at Logan somehow.

"Then, two years ago, they must have figured it out, probably remembering how he had protected me. But they kidnapped me, when I was doing Christmas shopping. I never saw them coming, and they knocked me out with some kind of chemical."

"I filed a 'Missing Persons", but the police never found anything," I tell the others.

"And so the guy out there was one of the Jaguars," Carlos guesses.

"The boss," Faythe confirms. "Miguel."

"And – Miguel – he did all…_**this**_…to you?" James tries to be subtle about his gesturing to her injuries.

"Well," she looks down, her voice suddenly agonisingly pained. "All of them did really. And…_**other**_…things…" she trails off.

James's confused expression matches how I'm feeling. Then Kelly gasps. And the pieces fall into place. The boys all have various expressions of horror, and red floods my vision as burning anger spreads through my system again.

"No," I hiss, sounding a lot like my old self. Faythe turns to me, tears in her eyes again. I grab both sides of her face, gently for the bruises. "Faythe, tell me they didn't."

"What did you expect, Logan?" she sobs again, and I feel horrible. "Why did you think I was dressed in a way that showed as much skin as possible? So that they could advertise how much they beat their little sex toy in one day?"

"You're not 'their' anything!" I cry, horrified. "And you're _**not**_ just a sex toy! You're my sister!"

"To them I was barely a human being!" she wails at me. "If you're treated like something worthless and inferior, you soon start to believe that's what you are." She quietens her voice, both running out of steam and remembering our audience. "It's all in the psychology, Logan." She collapses against me again, attempting to control her quivering muscles.

I pull her tightly to me once more as I take in the others' reactions; Carlos looks ready to beat someone up (and I'd gladly join him), Kendall seems like he's about to cry, constantly staring at Faythe in sympathy and helplessness, and James has gone pretty pale, his wide eyes never moving from a faraway spot beneath the floor under my feet.

"You're staying," Kelly gasps, her own tears streaking down her cheeks. "At the Palm Woods, with the boys. There's no moral way I can let you back out on the street again."

"I've got no objection," Kendall agrees, and I smile at him in thanks. But he continues, "But Bitters said you have to be involved with the TV or music industry to stay at the Palm Woods."

My heart sinks as I remember the trouble Kendall's mom and sister went through to get an apartment. Another memory of Faythe springs to mind, and I start to smile as I gently shake her shoulders to get her to lean back and look at me.

"You still sing, baby girl?"

She shrugs, modestly. "I haven't practised in a while, but I can give it a shot. Why?"

I ignore her question. "Gustavo, think I could do a duet with her? Would that get Big Time Rush an even bigger audience?" And I accused _**Miguel**_ of being manipulative towards Gustavo…

"Depends whether it's our usual type of music; something new will be risky but if the audience likes it, then we'd go global. But it'll take me a while to come up with something new as a duet, and we need to stick to the script Griffin gave us," my boss argues.

"Hey, it's OK, Gustavo. We've already got a song we can sing," I grin.

Five pairs of eyebrows are raised in surprise and curiosity. "You do?"

Turning back to my sister, I see the corners of her mouth turn up ever so slightly, her eyes finally sparking with a flame of life again. "_As_?" she asks. I nod, confirming her suspicions.

She starts to smile properly – halleluiah – but then stops, and despair mars her beautiful features again.

"Hey, come on. What's up, baby girl?"

"I don't have that confidence anymore," she murmurs, that heartbreaking tone returning. "It won't be as good. I mean, look at me; since when did I sit like this, two years ago?"

I must admit; seeing her curled in a tight ball with her arms wrapped securely around her knees seems way too scared and vulnerable for Faythe. The fact of her torture hits me again, and I curl my hands into fists on my knees, wishing Miguel was back here, tied up, so I could teach him what happens when you screw – literally – with my sister.

"Look," I tell her, trying to keep the anger, not even directed at her, out of my voice. "You were fantastic all the other times we sang this. You obviously had natural talent, and you can't get rid of that so I know you've still got it. Just try. Just at least try; it'll be great to hear you sing in person again, rather than just listening to the MP3 recordings we made back then."

I give her my best puppy eyes along with my best reassuring face. I'm not sure what the effect is, but it seems to work; I can see reluctant acceptance dawning on her face.

"Yeah," Carlos adds, trying to help. "And if you're half as good as Logan, it'll be awesome."

"You kiss-ass," I tease. "What are you after?"

The guys and Kelly laugh whilst Gustavo tries not to crack a smile. I turn back to Faythe.

"So what do you say, baby girl?" She still looks doubtful, so I decide to help her along a bit more. "After two years, you deserve to feel alive again. I remember how happy you looked when we were singing together; you deserve that feeling of power. Just give it a go. Please?"

She looks up at me through her lashes for a long while, just staring into my eyes, before moving her gaze to the boys and doing the same to them. They all give reassuring gestures. Neither James nor Faythe break their eye contact – seriously, what is going on with that? – before she answers me.

"You got the backing CD?"

James grins full on at her whilst the Carlos and Kendall make celebratory noises and slap each other's hands. I wink at her, elated.

"You bet I have."

"Let's go, then," Kendall smiles.

My boys all cheer, and I pick Faythe up by the waist, revelling in her delighted and surprised squeals as I spin her around in the air. The guys jump up, laughing at us both, then Carlos and Kendall race out the door. When I've put Faythe down and both of us have reached the door, James – OK, this is getting weird now – is standing there, holding the door.

"After you," he says kindly, speaking only to Faythe. Then, as I'm walking through the doorway with her, I try not to freeze and laugh out loud as it hits me. I can't believe I hadn't seen it sooner. Sure, my sister's drop-dead gorgeous, but so are many of the other girls at the Palm Woods, and they've never brought out this side of him. Maybe…just maybe…she means something different to him.

Smiling at this, I turn to him, preparing for the acid test of the theory. I smirk at him so Faythe doesn't see, teasing him. He makes a face back that says, "Oh, ha ha, now wipe that off your face before she sees." Hmmm…could have been a better response, but could have been worse too. It means he still has the confidence that he's going to win her over, but is worried about her seeing his feelings too soon. The fact that he wants to hide it definitely suggests she's not like the other girls, but he needs to be careful about the confidence; Faythe doesn't like arrogance, and she rarely did what I expected before, so he could end up crushed. He may crush her in the process too, considering the way she blushed and smiled when he held the door for her. They both need to be careful. But wow; one of my best buds and my sister. Who'd have thought?

Gustavo and Kelly bring up the rear, with James walking directly behind us. No doubt with some ulterior motive like staring at my sister. I try to hold in a laugh again; James has no worries about me knowing because he thinks he's actually going to get her. Faythe, on the other hand, used to freak if anyone found out she was crushing on someone. She'd get all embarrassed, even back then, and completely avoid them so neither he nor she would get a chance together. I'd hate to ruin either of their chances, especially considering how guys have treated her for the past two years.

Great; now I'm all angry again.

Shaking the horrifically graphic images out of my head, I smile as Kendall, Carlos and James give us both – but mostly Faythe – reassurances and "good luck"s again.

Faythe smiles to me – finally – excitedly. I grin back at her as I open the door to the recording room. When she enters, she stares around like a kid in a candy store; it had always been her dream before to be a professional singer, and now she's finally inside an actual recording studio. At Rocque Records, no less.

Whilst she spins around lovingly in the middle of the room, I turn to the screen the others are behind in the mixing studio, looking at Carlos. "Dude, can you look in my bag? Front zip pocket, there should be a CD with "_As_ backings" written on the case."

Carlos turns away to the back of the mixing studio, disappearing from my sight before popping back up, waving a CD proudly. I nod to him, holding my thumbs up. Carlos hands the CD to Gustavo, who puts it in the mixing player. I call Faythe over, breaking her reluctantly from her reverie and leading her over to the mike. Pulling the headphones over her head, she speaks to me before I've got mine on.

"I feel so professional. It's really scary."

I laugh at her, pulling my own headphones on.

"You'll be great," I tell her through the mike so she can hear me through her headphones.

Through the glass, Gustavo presses the speaker button. "Okay, you two ready? It's all set up and clear to record. You can go whenever."

I raise my eyebrows in question at Faythe, and she takes a deep breath then nods. Smiling at her, I lace our fingers together and she squeezes my hand gratefully. I incline my head to Gustavo, and the backing music starts to play. **(They sing 'As' by George Michael, by the way. Check it out; it's actually pretty good)** I have to come in almost immediately. I sing my two verses, continuing into the chorus alone, singing about my eternal love for a girl. Faythe gets a smile on her face; probably because she's hearing me sing this song after so long. I wink at her, backing up a little bit to give her space to the mike. And then, she starts to sing…

**James' POV**

Whoa. Seriously, just whoa. Ever since I actually got a good look at her in Gustavo's office, I've been staring at her whenever I can. She is just…even with the bruises too! I don't know why, but I really just want to kill every single asshole who did all this to her. When she subtly suggested to us that she'd been raped – _**multiple times**_ – I saw red. I really don't know why, but I was furious that anyone would want to do anything like that to this girl. I wanted to fling myself in front of her to protect her in any way I could.

I hope I didn't go too red in the face. Because it really won't have done wonders for my skin.

But yeah, now Logan knows. Great, just great; like _**that's**_ going to end well. He's probably going to be all overprotective-big brother on me, saying how I'd better stay away from her because of all she's been through. I can kind of see his point, but surely some dating time with the face of Minnesota will help her out, rather than learn to hate all guys? I mean, she's already shown signs that she likes me, so the face is obviously doing its job perfectly. I bet I'll have her in no time.

And then, she starts to sing…Oh. My. God. I have competition; she is _**good**_. As soon as she opens her mouth, a mellow sound pours forth, sounding like she could put you to sleep with a lullaby. But this song needs some kind of rasp, some kind of confidence in the girl's part, and she delivers without fault. Oh, man, I'd love to do a duet with her. Then she can hear what a great voice I have, and then she won't be able to resist me.

This is going to be _**easy**_.

**Oh, poor naïve James. Anyway, for the two people I promised would be in this; you guys will turn up in the next chapter, when Faythe first arrives at the Palm Woods :D Oh, and by the way; please, just pretend that none of the guys have girlfriends, as they may well do in the series. I've just finished season 1, so just pretend at least Stephanie and Jo and anyone else doesn't exist.**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


	2. New Home  The Pool

**Chapter 2: New home**

**Faythe's POV**

After recording, the guys rush into the studio commenting on how great the song was, how amazing my voice is, etc. They're all really sweet, and completely supportive considering they've only just met me.

The dark-skinned woman – Kelly, I think her name is – and Gustavo say goodbye to us all as we start to head out again. Hanging onto Logan's T-shirt, I flinch at every corner we turn, expecting Miguel to be lurking, ready to come at me again. Sensing this, Logan turns to the biggest man I've ever seen near the exit of the building.

"Hey, Freight Train. Do you think you can escort us to the Limo? Just to calm her a little?"

"Sure thing, Logan," the guy replies.

I stare up at him in wonder and slight fear. "Freight Train, huh?" He smiles. "It suits you." Logan chuckles next to me.

I take a deep breath as we push through the doors to the outside world that I haven't known in two years. I didn't get to appreciate just how _**colourful**_, how _**bright**_ everything is here when I was running from Miguel – I was more concerned about staying alive.

Logan directs me to a black stretched Limo, and I can't help but gawk at it. After all these years living as something less than a person, and now I'm being driven around in a Limo. A girl could get used to this.

My brother holds the door open for me while the guys use the door on the other side. Logan and I sit ourselves down on the _**real leather**_ seats facing the front of the car, and the others face us. My jaw muscles seem to have stopped working as I stare open-mouthed at the plush-ness that is the car I'm sitting in. Logan reaches behind him, opening what looks like a _**cooler built into the door**_, and pulls out a bottle, raising it up to me.

"Orange juice, my lady?" he smirks.

I think something really intelligent like "Uh" comes out of my mouth. All of them laugh at me, and I duck my head, embarrassed.

"But seriously though," the blonde one says. "I cannot believe you have a voice like that. You _**really**_ should be in the music industry."

"Thanks," I smile sheepishly at him. "I might actually take you up on that…um…" I trail off, hoping he'll get the picture.

Thankfully, he does, and his eyes widen. "Oh, my God, guys! We didn't even do introductions! I'm Kendall." He sticks his hand out, and I take it, shaking it once. Huh, nice smile, gentleman, nice hair. He's pretty cute.

The Latino with the dark eyes and short dark hair is next. "Carlos." We shake hands too. Not my type, but still really nice.

And last is…him. With his melted chocolate and caramel eyes, his silky dark brown hair that I'd love to run my fingers through, his slightly-tanned skin smoother than anything I've ever seen, and his smile that stops even the LA sun in its tracks. He takes my hand differently to the others, gently holding the edges of my fingers, like he's about to kiss my knuckles. Oh, please do.

"James."

As some freaky electricity short-circuits in my hand, I relish in the softness of his voice, like a caress, and much lower than the voice he had used when he got me the water.

_You're noticing his voice patterns?_ My brain interrupts my moment. _A) You've only just met the guy, and B) you've just got out of a hell on earth that had, oh yeah, _**guys**_, and you're already on the look-out? You work fast._

I'm interrupted from grimacing at myself as Logan's voice calls out. "Here we are." I remove my hand from James', avoiding everyone's eyes. Especially his.

The boys get out first, and James holds the car door open for me. Okay, he is making me feel really easy – I cringe at the word – because I'm almost swooning at the guy; a) he's a gentleman, and those are _**really**_ hard to find in our generation, **(So true; it's depressing really) **and b) he's _**gorgeous**_.

But, of course, my logic system kicks in again, my self-preservation enhanced by these last two years:

_Hello? He's gorgeous, that probably means he's either got some Hollywood-star girlfriend or he's a player._

Both of which mean I have zero chance with him; I'm _**definitely**_ no star, and I don't do that short-term test-run-then-getting-dumped-for-another-girl-anyway relationship. Especially not now.

For this reason, I lean more towards Logan than James, clinging on to my brother's T-shirt again as we make our way into the fancy-looking sand-coloured building. Logan's hands cover mine in support as we enter the lobby of what looks like a really nice hotel. **(Please don't burn me if I get a few details wrong. And my apologies if I get the orientation wrong; on Youtube the video has to be reflected so as to not breach copyright.)** The red carpeted floor looks really soft to walk on, the colour a tasteful combination with the plush dark-brown seats by a set of glass doors and windows to my left, with the coffee-tables in the middle of each seating group the same dark glossy wood as the reception desk to my right.

All in all, it seems almost as welcoming as my brother's friends have been.

"Kendall!"

I try not to flinch at the sudden noise in the relatively quiet lobby – there are only a few people sitting in this area – and instead turn towards the source. A girl not much taller than me – finally; someone who is as small as my measly 5'5" – and obviously of Asian descent is beaming and walking towards my new blonde friend, her dark brown eyes shimmering even more because of the sun reflecting from her glasses lenses.

Kendall grins back at her. "Hey, Kira!" Kendall meets her in the middle of her path, embracing her tightly. Huh, guess he's taken then. As they separate, she grabs his forearms, her entire being almost buzzing with excitement and happiness.

"Guess who got that computer-hacker part she really wanted in that film she auditioned for?" **(For the person who this character is supposed to be: please don't burn me. I tried to think of the industry that suited you best and then which part you'd really want. I mean no offense. Besides; hackers are cool :D)**

Kendall's eyes widen. "Oh, my God, seriously? Kira, that's amazing!" He pulls her into his arms again as she grins over his shoulder, obviously ecstatic about her achievement. She then spots me over his shoulder, and her smile slips significantly. She pulls away from Kendall, not taking her eyes off me.

"Uh…those bruises are fake and for a movie…right?"

Kendall looks kind of sheepish as she looks to him for reassurance and I do the same with my brother; his lips turn up at the corners sadly as he gently pulls me further into his side. Tucking my chin to try and hide my face with my hair, I lift my eyes to Kira again. Her hand is resting at the base of her throat, her face a picture of horror.

"Oh, my god," she breathes. She looks back to Kendall, as if still willing him to falsify her assumption. He remains awkwardly and sorrowfully silent, turning to face me with guilt and sympathy written over his face. In an attempt to make him feel better for Kira inquiring about me, I shrug in a way to communicate 'someone was bound to notice eventually'.

"Kira," Logan speaks softly, almost as if not to disturb me, "this is my twin sister, Faythe. A bunch of…_**jerks**_ have done this to her for two years, but she's away from them now. Any more information than that Faythe can tell you when: a) she's better rested, and b) she's ready to tell you."

"Sure, yeah, of course," Kira nods fervently, thankfully understanding that I do not really wish to advertise what happened to me just yet. She seems to think about approaching me but, again thankfully, changes her mind and softens her eyes and voice as much as possible in replacement.

"I'm here if and whenever you need to talk, okay, Faythe? Whenever you're ready, and there's no rush."

Almost tearing up at her kindness, I smile, hoping it doesn't look as wobbly as it feels, and nod at her in acceptance and thanks. After spending so long with the worst of the worst in society, it's sadly shocking when I realise how genuinely _**nice**_ people can be.

Kira leaves, saying something about her first scene shooting and glancing sympathetically at me as she walks past. With Logan rubbing my left shoulder with his arm slung around me, I'm guided towards the front desk, empty at the moment, but with the computer running and a cup of coffee by its side. Kendall taps the bell that's used to call for service, and leans one elbow on the desk. A head peeks out of the door to the left of the desk – a fairly chubby one with thick-framed rectangular glasses and a boring mass of dark hair stuck on top – and scowls at us all.

"Oh, it's you boys."

Okay, so maybe not everything at this place is welcoming. I turn to Logan, smiling slightly. "You're popular," I accuse.

"It's their fault," Logan nods his head to his friends, half-succeeding in keeping a straight face.

I giggle quietly. "It always is."

The other boys all grin at me before Kendall turns back to the head, opening his arms wide and making his voice bright. "Bitters, my man! Have you been working out? Wow, you look great –"

"You can only see my head," Bitters points out, and I smother a smile behind my brother's arm.

"And doesn't your head look great? Listen, we need a favour," he pauses to gesture to me. "This is Faythe Mitchell, Logan's sister, and –"

"Never seen her face and never seen or heard her name on the TV or radio, so she's not staying here." Bitters starts retreating into his office again.

"Ahhh, but Bitters, she's new to the music scene." Kendall beckons the guy closer, and surprisingly he comes. "Want to hear her first single, not even released yet?" He plucks a CD out of his back pocket – presumably a copy of the finished recording – and waves it in front of Bitters' face before placing it on the desk.

"Just listen to it, okay? You'll like it, you can call Gustavo up to confirm that it's her – he was there when it was recorded – and she can stay, so we'll be going now."

The shocked and impressed looks on the boys' faces gives me the impression that Kendall isn't as sharp or insistent as that too often. I'm honoured that he chose to act that way simply so I can stay here.

We wait in tense silence while Bitters stares at Kendall like a hamster just snarled at him before moving his gaze to the CD, then back up to me.

"Have a…Palm Woods day," he greets me in a slightly confused tone.

"She'll be staying in our apartment. Thanks, Bitters," Kendall claps the large man on the shoulder before turning back to us. As he looks down at me he sends me a small and _**cute**_ – with a capital 'C' – wink. Stifling a giggle, I smile at him shyly and mouth "thank you". He nods back in reply.

"So," Logan begins, and I turn back to him. "Want a tour of your new home?"

A thrill running through me – yes, this _**is**_ my new home! – I smile and nod excitedly. His arm still around my shoulder, my brother grins at me, pulling me close to drop a kiss on the top of my head before steering me towards the double-doors by the windows in the lobby. With the doors already open, I spot a _**pool**_, with people around my age splashing around and just as many teenagers at the sides, enjoying the fabulous sun on sun-loungers. **(Forgot to say; both the boys and Faythe are older than in the series. They look way too old to be 16, so just imagine them 17 or 18) **As the guys lead me outside, I gaze in wonder at the beautiful stone slabs, the lovely cafe part on the dais on the left just behind the perimeter of potted plants.

"Hey, Logan!"

Following my brother's newly-turned gaze, I spot a girl about my age again in one of the dark blue half-closed gazebos, waving to Logan. Her fairish-brown hair slides straight down till her feathered ends tickle just under halfway down her back, which is covered by a dark blue sleeveless top with thin straps around each shoulder. Her deep brown eyes are magnified slightly by her circular thin-framed glasses. A laptop is balanced on her black-skinny-jean-clad legs, and her feet are bare. The smile on her face is bright with happiness, but small enough to seem relaxed…and shy. Hmm, interesting…

"Hey there, Sarah!" he grins at her.

He suddenly turns back to me, his expression guilty. He obviously wants to go and talk to the girl, but he doesn't want to leave me for fear of making me freak out. I smile at him; my brother is the best I could ever ask for, but I can't be hiding behind him all my life now. I need to be able to cope on my own. Besides, I'd have Logan's friends waiting here with me.

_Including James, with his barely-concealed biceps beneath his awesome leather jacket._

_Oh, shut up, Faythe._

"Go on," I encourage my brother quietly, nodding over to Sarah. His smile is another one of his soft 'you're the best' smiles, and he draws me close to press a brief kiss to my forehead before detaching himself from me and walking over to the tent. Logan and Sarah smile at each other, and she points to her laptop screen, showing him something of interest as he sits down beside her.

"So this is the pool," James says, and I turn back to him to see him gazing lovingly around the place. After a few seconds, it hits me that he's the only one there, and that Kendall and Carlos have walked off to talk to a few more of their friends. I try not to be affected – positively or not – by the fact I'm basically alone with James now. James focuses back on me and smiles. "It's a great place to kick back, get some great food, chill out with a few other people in the Palm Woods…"

"It looks amazing," I agree, walking carefully to the water's edge and dipping my hand in. Even though it's outside, the pool is lovely and warm. I stand up again. "This is luxury compared to a cage."

Ice descends again as I realise my slip. Glancing sideways at him, I see James's smile has frozen on his face, his lips and eyes a little tighter now. "Cage?" he echoes, slightly strained. I turn my face away again, ashamed for letting that slip. The silence stretches unbearably though, and I can't resist peeking back up at him through my eyelashes. He stares back down, boring into my very soul. He huffs sharply through his nose, running his hand through his glossy hair and staring off to the side at nothing.

"Those guys deserve a kick up the ass," he mutters before letting out a sardonic laugh. "What the hell am I saying? They deserve so much more than that. And boy, would I like to be the one giving it to them."

"I'm out now," I promise, subconsciously confused as to why _**I'm**_ the one reassuring _**him**_. "I'm away from them all."

His head snaps back to look at me, and I'm shocked by the intensity in his caramel eyes. "Yeah, and if I have anything to say about it, it'll stay that way."

I stare at him, startled into silence, until his eyes suddenly soften again, as if he realises the tone he's taking. He laughs once again, sheepish this time.

"Sorry," he looks down at the floor, shaking his head at himself. "It's just…they…what they did…" On first impressions alone – not matter how inaccurate they may be – I wouldn't have pinned James as someone to stumble over words. The fact that he is now, after talking about my safety – and practically vowing to ensure it – is unnerving and flattering at the same time.

Feeling sorry for what must be a confident guy suddenly not being able to speak, I try to move the conversation into more familiar ground for him.

"The water in the pool is really warm," I mention my earlier observation.

His gorgeous eyes flick back to me, slightly wider and startled, before he blinks slowly, a grateful smile slowly stretching his lips. He must realise I'm changing the subject for his sake, and he's thanking me silently.

"We _**are**_ in LA," he notes as an explanation. I grin and flip my eyebrows in a way I hope implies 'touché'.

"Hey, James!"

I jump as new voices break our little bubble that I hadn't even noticed being created. We both look across the pool to two pretty – but obviously mostly fake – girls in short shorts and revealing tops waving at James in a way I assume is meant to be seductive. A painful pang, much like when Miguel strikes me across the face, jerks inside my chest as he smiles at them warmly.

"Ladies," he calls, winking at them. For a second, I swear I see his eyes flick sideways to me, but I probably imagine it; why would he look at me when he's got those two in his sights?

_Stop sounding like a depressed high school Barbie, Faythe; you said so yourself that you thought he was a player._

_That didn't mean I wanted it confirmed._

_Well, it has been now, so you can stop swooning and sighing over him like the pathetic girls across the pool._

No amount of arguing with myself can get rid of the stupid pain though, and I look on as James keeps their eye-contact as they make their way toward the lobby. Once they're out of sight, he turns back to me, mouth open and ready to start talking again, but the words get stuck in his throat; he jumps slightly as he sees me. Apparently I haven't hidden my disappointment or hurt well enough. His eyebrows pull together slightly as confusion moulds his expression. I don't bother making my emotions more obvious by looking away from him; I just meet his gaze levelly, willing him to continue with whatever he was about to say. Eventually, after two painstaking minutes, he does.

"You must be pretty hungry," he says, his expression not shifting, "after all that running."

"A little, yeah," I allow, grateful for the distraction, no matter how partial.

"Come on," he gently puts his hand behind my back, guiding me between the shoulders. He turns back to my brother, still in the tent with Sarah.

"Logan!" he calls, and my brother looks up from the laptop screen. James points down to me, then off to the side of the pool, onto the café-looking dais where I can see a small bit of steam rising. Logan gives the thumbs up, grateful that James has told him where he's taking me, before going back to Sarah.

James guides me up the stairs to the dais, choosing a free table and walking with me toward it. My ability to function properly escapes me as he _**pulls back my chair for me**_. Like a proper gentleman, in old-fashioned movies. His confused and self-conscious expression is the only thing that snaps me out of my reverie, and I lower myself cautiously to the chair. James kneels by me for a second, his expression gentle.

"Please don't think I'm patronising you," he begs. "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable. But I'm going to be just over there, alright?" He points to a grill, where I can see a few people walking away with large sugared doughnuts. "You'll still be able to see me, but you won't have to get close to another stranger again, so I thought it would be best if you sat here and waited for me."

"But I don't have any money," I point out, actually really impressed and flattered by his plan.

He blinks, surprised. "Did you really think I was going to ask you for money?" he says, incredulousness, almost insult, obvious in his voice. "No way; this one and any others after this one, if you want, are on me."

Without giving me time to protest at his spending money on me, he rises and strides quickly over to the grill.

_Does he have multiple personality syndrome?_

I shake my head lightly, too tired to figure out the enigma that is James…whatever-his-last-name-is.

"Hey, sorry," Kendall's voice makes me jump as he sits down next to me. Carlos takes the chair on the other side of me. "We just wanted to say hi to a few of our friends."

"Yeah, that's no problem," I smile at him. "I'm not exactly going to stop you from saying hi to your friends. That would be selfish."

He grins at me, then looks around confused. "Did James leave you on your own?" His voice displays his shock and disapproval.

"Not exactly," I defend him. "He's just over there, buying me a doughnut. He asked me if I'd be alright without him before he went off though."

Kendall blinks, turning back to me. "James is buying you a doughnut?"

"And he checked if you were okay with him walking off?" Carlos joins in the Spanish Inquisition – no pun intended.

Rather afraid of the intensity on their faces, I nod slowly. They turn to each other at the same time, then shrug in confusion. I frown.

"Doesn't he usually do that?" I ask.

"Not really," Kendall turns back to me. "He doesn't usually buy anything for anyone unless it's a "special occasion" present instead of something small, like a doughnut."

"He kind of just rushes off, too," Carlos agrees. "He just does stuff, without asking people even if it affects them. He sort of assumes that it would be okay."

I'm silent as I digest this information, trying not to let myself hope that he might be doing these out of character things because of me.

_Of course not, Faythe. You saw how he acted with the fake girls by the pool; those are the kind of girls he likes. He's probably just doing all this to comfort you after what you've gone through._

Before I can fully convince myself, the should-be model returns, a doughnut with a napkin in each hand and a smile that's bright enough to solve all of LA's power problems.

"Here ya go," James hands over the large doughnut, sugar crumbling off its surface at every jostle, and I thank him. After smiling at me in response, he turns to his two friends as he takes a seat opposite me.

"Sorry, guys; I only got another one for me. If I'd known you were coming back I would have bought two more."

Kendall blinks, a shocked look on his face, while Carlos continues like nothing is wrong.

"Oh, hey, don't worry about it. I'm not really in the mood for a doughnut anyway. Thanks, though."

A few seconds of ordinary silence fall before Carlos almost double-takes back to James, his expression confused. Kendall looks to Carlos again, and they do that infuriating look-sharing again. They both then stand up.

"Um, we have to go sort out…something…in the apartment," Kendall smiles, très convincingly innocent.

"Right," Carlos nods just in time for Kendall to grab his arm and make off with him, almost running into the lobby and disappearing around the corner.

I stare after them, tempted to follow them just to see what they're obviously going to say about James. But I resist the urge, the thought of James not being there to protect me from my paranoia in this huge estate enough to keep me glued to my seat.

I mean, the thought of, just, being alone _**in general**_. Not just because it's James. No way. At all.

My curiosity still piqued though, I turn back to James, gesturing to our friends' departure. He wipes a bit of sugar from the side of his mouth, frowning toward the lobby, then flicks his gaze back down to me and shrugs. He has no clue either.

Deciding to ignore it, I take an experimental bite out of my sugary treat…and nearly moan in delight. I've always had a sweet-tooth, and this is just bliss incarnate when it comes to food. A silky chuckle breaks my bubble of heaven, and I open my eyes to see James's sparkling as much as his smile.

"Good doughnut?" he winks. _Keep calm, Faythe. It's just a wink…_

I nod in agreement, finishing my mouthful. "I could get used to this kind of food."

Yet again, another incident on when I want to duct-tape my mouth shut forever after letting slip too much information around _**James**_ of all people. His smile freezes in place, tighter now as he looks away, and I can tell the thoughts running through his mind right now are the different types of food I might have been offered when I was with the Jags. If at all. I decide not to fuel his imagination, and remain silent. After a few seconds of deliberately not meeting my eyes, he speaks again.

"My thoughts are kind of driving me crazy right now," he confesses. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Gladly," I nod, "but I have to ask you something first." His eyes hold me in their power again. "Every time I make a slip-up like that, it's you that freaks out, not me. Why is that? Why are you affected by this so much?"

He laughs without humour. "It's just, when I think of the stuff you've been through – the stuff that's been done to you…I really, _**really**_, want to punch something. Preferably their faces."

Shocked by his urgent need to protect and defend me, it's a few moments before I can speak again.

"I would offer you that opportunity, but there's one thing; if _**I'm**_ never going near them again, then neither are you. You don't know what they're like, and I'm not taking the risk that they might be able to take you out."

James grins, apparently more in his territory now. "I can take them on," he brags. "Look, check out my weapons."

He shrugs his leather jacket off and flexes, his biceps bulging underneath his T-shirt sleeves, and the torso of the material rippling as the muscles underneath tense. All in all, it's _**very**_ impressive, not to mention sexy.

But the fact that he needs to flex them at all puts me off; if he loves showing off, then he'd probably feel the need to show off to everyone, other girls included. I want a guy who makes some parts of himself exclusive to me, and arrogance screams "not exclusive". My heart sinks even as I compliment him, and I hope it doesn't show in the hollowness of my voice.

As he pulls his jacket back on, James is staring at me, as if intrigued and mystified by me, calculating certain moves, or wondering why certain strategies hadn't played out the way he predicted. Even as his intensity nearly scares me, I can't look away as I'm hypnotised by his eyes again. Finally, I gather enough brain cells to string a sentence together.

"So, who's that Sarah girl that my brother's talking to?"

Slowly, James smiles again. "She's cool. She's into acting, but she's more of a backstage/special effects kind of girl, although she can hold her own in front of a camera. The people she works with say she's the nicest person they ever met, if slightly tom-boyish sometimes. She sticks up for the right people in the right situations though, and she knows the right thing to do. She's awesome with a computer, and a real nerd with her facts and stuff. So basically, a brilliant catch for your brother."

I laugh at the truth in that statement. James and I then just get talking again, about anything, about everything. We relish in just having each other's company, and have fun together just like any friends in the world would. And halfway through the afternoon, I realise that I've relaxed. That the person who has made me relax in this place, and feel welcome and safe, isn't my brother.

It's James.

Talk about frustrating.

**Sorry if that's a crap finish, it's just that I really needed to get this chapter done and up there. Or it would never be done. Anyway, sorry for keeping you waiting so long! I'll try not next chapter, but I can't promise anything.**

**Fly on,**

**NitnatRide**


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